


Damage Control

by Pinkablu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, F/M, Reader has last name, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8037103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkablu/pseuds/Pinkablu
Summary: [DEAD]You were damage control.    During riots in rural parts of the country you had caught the eye of America with your homemade tech--barriers that could be thrown out from the gloves you wore to stop projectiles from causing collateral damage. During those riots you would cut off violent protesters completely with your shields, and you’d simply soak up the damage done by molotov cocktails and the like, rendering them harmless.    When you stopped a suicide bomber from taking anyone with him by isolating him within your shields, you made the news.    “Miracle inventor saves lives during riots in rural America.”-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------In which you become Overwatch's damage-control. Or, more rather, Jamison Fawkes' damage-control.





	1. Recruited

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, while I'm waiting for my lovely beta-reader to read the next chapter of Who We Are and Want to Be I decided to just start writing this for fun. I had a dream I dated Junkrat and whoops, I'm hooked. 
> 
> He's hard af to write though so gimme some criticism folks.

You were damage control.

 

During riots in rural parts of the country you had caught the eye of America with your homemade tech--barriers that could be thrown out from the gloves you wore to stop projectiles from causing collateral damage. During those riots you would cut off violent protesters completely with your shields, and you’d simply soak up the damage done by molotov cocktails and the like, rendering them harmless.

 

When you stopped a suicide bomber from taking anyone with him by isolating him within your shields, you made the news.

 

“ _ Miracle inventor saves lives during riots in rural America. _ ”

 

That’s when the offers started pouring in. Large companies wanting to employ you for research purposes, other companies trying to buy and patent your shield-throwing gloves. They were, apparently, more accurate than other throwable shields and soaked up damage a  _ mite _ bit better than average. They could also deflect, if you changed the settings, but you figured that defeated the purpose of  _ damage control _ .

 

In the end you would respond to none of your offers--not until they showed up on your doorstep, anyway, in the form a gruff looking man with a cigar hanging from his lips. He tilted the large cowboy hat on top of his head when you opened the door before offering you a gloved hand to shake.

 

“Hey there,” he said, his other hand going to grab his belt. The buckle read “BAMF” and the hand was made of metal and gears. “Name’s McCree.”

 

You took his hand, eyeing the stranger warily. You didn’t get visitors often, so while his presence wasn’t  _ unwelcome _ it certainly wasn’t the norm. When you withdrew your hand you decided to cut right to the chase--you had an idea what this was about.

 

“No,” you said simply, crossing your arms. McCree’s expression faltered a bit and his hand dropped back to his side.

 

“I haven’t even--”

 

“They aren’t for sale, they aren’t for hire, so no is your answer,” you went to close the door only for his boot to get in the way. His metal hand reached around to pull the door back just slightly, allowing him to peer inside.

 

“Look, missy, I think you’ll wanna hear this,” he said, ashes dropping from his cigar. The smoke blew in your face, making you grimace. 

 

“...what company are you from this time?” you muttered, still not re-opening the door. It looked like he could easily rip it back open with his robotic arm, but you liked to pretend you had the upperhand. 

 

“None of’em,” he replied smoothly, a crooked grin on his face. “I’m from  _ Overwatch _ .”

 

“Bullshit, they’re dead and gone,” you hissed, though your grip on the door loosened enough for him to easily open it back up. He stood with a smug expression, reaching up for his cigar to tap the ashes onto the concrete below. 

 

“Not entirely,” he replied, sticking the cigar back into his mouth. “ ‘Suppose you could say we came out of retirement.”

 

You faltered then, your mouth forming a thin line as you looked behind him for any nosey spectators. When you found none you sighed, stepping out of the way to let the man inside. 

 

“Alright, you have five minutes,” you spat, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as you walked towards your living room. McCree took off his hat, taking a moment to flick his cigar to the ground before following you inside. He looked around your humble home quietly, making no comments as he followed you to the next room.

 

“Five’s all I need, darlin’,” he said with a nod, taking a seat after you motioned to the couch. “Now, this is all top-secret, so some topics are... _ off limits _ . But the gist of it is Overwatch has returned to the field, and we’re lookin’ to recruit.”

 

“I thought the Petras Act banned you guys from returning.” you sat in a recliner nearby, kicking it back so you could rest your legs. 

 

“It did. So this ain’t exactly  _ legal _ ,” he said, leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him. “But it’s for the better  _ good _ , and we think your skills could come in handy.”

 

“Mmm…” your eyes wandered to the side as you thought the offer over in your head, fingers twitching against the recliner armrests. The reason you had rejected all other offers was because you had made your tech to be used for  _ good _ , not as a money-grab, and here an agent of Overwatch was telling you that’s  _ exactly _ what your tech would be used for if you joined.

 

“So you want me  _ as well _ as my tech?” you asked, fingers tapping against the leather. McCree nodded, a glint in his eye. 

 

“That’s it, yeah,” he said, making you sigh. You shrugged, standing back up. 

 

“...alright, I’m in. For now,” you frowned as McCree gave you another wide, crooked grin. It felt, somehow, like you had lost a long battle. “When do we leave?”

 

“As soon as you’re packed.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The trip was longer than you anticipated, but the private jet made it ten times more enjoyable than public transportation. The seats had been plush, and while there were no servers there  _ was _ a fridge in the back with a series of snacks and beverages. You almost felt sad when you landed at Watchpoint Gibraltar, stepping off the jet with McCree’s help. 

 

He took your suitcase for you as well, which was fine as your tech was packed away in the backpack you currently wore. You shifted its weight before following McCree, looking up to see a giant...gorilla waiting for you.

 

“Hey Winston,” McCree greeted with a tilt of his hat. Winston nodded back before turning to you with one of the kindest smiles you had ever seen.

 

“______ Elliott, right?” he said, holding his enormous hand out to you. You faltered a moment--you recalled hearing about Winston on the news, during the glory days, but you struggled to accept the fact a gorilla was talking to you  _ in person _ .

 

When you hesitated long enough to be considered rude your cheeks burned and your hand whipped out, grasping his as best you could. “So-sorry! Yes, I’m _____ Elliott,” you said, bowing your head just slightly. 

 

Luckily Winston didn’t seem offended at all. In fact, he laughed it off and gently shook your hand before it returned to the ground, his sharp canines shining in the sun. 

 

“No problem. Jesse can show you to your room, and later someone can show you around base. Did you have any questions first?”

 

You hesitated again, gripping your backpack straps almost as if you were holding on for dear life. You looked between Winston and McCree a few times before a small “uhhh” escaped your lips, cheeks still burning.

 

“...w-well, for one uh...well….why am I here exactly?” you delivered the question lamely, frowning as you thought this over. “I mean, I get my tech is kinda’...special...but it’s not  _ that _ special in comparison to yours, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

You straightened, looking at Winston in even deeper confusion. “Then...why…?”

 

“Because the  _ user _ is skilled,” he said, smiling again. It was enough to make you deflate and become humble again, wiping your nose before looking away. “We need someone who is skilled in both crowd and damage control. Your shields were designed for that specific purpose and you have shown exceptional skill on the field during the riots.  _ That’s _ what we need. Capable people wiling to do what’s right.”

 

“Ah, man, ok,” you said, unsure how to respond to the praise. What you had done during the riots was out of necessity, in your mind--nothing to be praised. “Well...ah, that’s….that’s it then, I guess.”

 

“In that case, Jesse can show you to your--”

 

An explosion shook the ground just then, making your mind immediately snap back to the riots months ago. You reached for your backpack in blind panic, only to feel McCree's hand against your wrist. You looked at him in confusion, watching him nod up towards the sky.

 

You looked to where he motioned and your jaw fell open at the sight of a man in the sky, quickly falling to the ground.

 

“H-he’s too high he’ll--”

 

“He’s fine,” Winston and McCree said at the same time. You couldn’t watch as the man rocketed for the ground, though you cracked an eye open just in time as his prosthetic leg hit the earth, taking on most of the impact. He bounced up for a second then landed on  _ both _ feet, a wide,  _ maniac _ grin on his face as he let out a laugh, patting his smoldering hair.

 

“Ello’, mates!” he exclaimed after a moment, waving his  _ other _ prosthetic--his arm. You awkwardly waved back, looking to McCree and Winston for an explanation. 

 

“Junkrat,” Winston said, his patience clearly waning. You bit your lip as ‘Junkrat’ ignored Winston and came stumbling towards you, hands on his hips as he looked you over once or twice before grinning again, holding his hand out for a shake. 

 

It was the third handshake so far, and by far the most awkward as his prosthetic hand gripped yours a touch too tightly before dramatically shaking your whole arm up and down. 

 

“Nice to meet’cha, Sheila!” he greeted, his excitement uncontainable. You nodded, unsure how to reply other than whispering “ _ my name’s not Sheila…” _ . He laughed at that, letting go of your hand. “Jus’ some Aussie slang for a woman,” he explained.

 

“Why’re you  _ here _ , Rat?” you heard McCree from your side, his hand landing on your shoulder almost protectively. Junkrat just offered a grin and shrug, the...bombs on his chest clinking together.

 

“Heard we were gettin’ a new teammate,” he said, kicking at the dirt below. “Wanted t’get a good look at her--we’ll be workin’ together after all,” he laughed then or rather giggled as his eyes landed back on you. “ _ Damage control, _ right?”

 

The way he said it made you shiver, and you gave a small nod in reply. You heard Winston sigh and adjust the glasses at the bridge of his nose before motioning towards Junkrat.

 

“This is one of your teammates,” he explained, looking as though he had aged considerably during the conversation. “He’s an...demolitions expert. You’ll be working with him to... _ contain _ his bombs.”

 

“Which is a shame ‘cause they don’t  _ need _ containin’!” Junkrat spat the words out, clearly offended as his arms crossed over his chest. “Let’em free, I say.”

 

“That’ll just harm our image in the long run. You need to reign it in,” Winston huffed, fists shifting on the ground impatiently. It was then you looked past Winston to see a small crowd of people making their way towards you. Winston groaned as he turned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“I’m sorry, ______, it’s been awhile since we’ve gotten a new teammate…”

 

“Uh, it’s...it’s no problem,” you murmured, watching a blue streak make its way towards you. It stopped right beside Winston, revealing a brunette girl with a wide smile and wider eyes. She stood with her hands on her hips, looking you over just as Junkrat had. It made you blush.

 

“Well, hiya!” she said, giving you a wave. “The name’s Tracer, but you can jus’ call me Lena,” her grin widened until she caught Winston’s look, making her grin falter. “What’s up, big guy?”

 

“You should all be working,” he said flatly, making Lena laugh. She shrugged, lightly punching Winston’s arm. 

 

“Come on, Winston, lighten up! We got a new teammate!” she eyed you yet again, and before she could hold out her hand you raised yours to stop her.

 

“I’m sorry, I’ve just shaken so many hands…” you trailed off. Her eyes glittered and she gave you a wink.

 

“Gotcha’,” she said, making finger-guns at you. You laughed a little then, starting to relax in her presence. Others were showing up as well, but Winston turned with a small growl.

 

“Let her get to her  _ room _ , people!” he shouted, making everyone stop. They looked sheepish, though many were still trying to get a good look. Junkrat leaned over towards you, the smell of charcoal strong in your nose.

 

“Looks like  _ someone’s _ popular,” he said to you, giggling again. You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

 

“What have I gotten into…” you murmured quietly. Junkrat seemed to have heard you though and laughed harder, to your annoyance. You looked up at him-- _ really _ looked up at him, with him being incredibly tall, and frowned.

 

“...Junkrat your real name?” you asked. He shook his head.

 

“Name’s Jamison Fawkes, at your service!” he gave a small salute and you couldn’t help but laugh at how misplaced it seemed with him. You had forgotten about McCree’s hand up until it slid away from your shoulder, making you glance his way. He pointed to your suitcase with his thumb, smiling just slightly.

 

“Let’s get you goin’ and unpacked,” he said, grabbing hold of your suitcase again. You let out a breath of relief, nodding before looking back to Junk--Jamison with a smile. 

 

“See you around, Jamison,” you said, offering your own little salute. He laughed at that, giving you a thumbs-up. 

 

Just as you turned a corner you heard another ground-shaking explosion.

 

“ _ JUNKRAT! _ ”

 

The cries of everyone you left behind echoed in the hallway, and you closed your eyes as the explosion rang in your ears.

 

What had you gotten yourself into indeed.


	2. The Tour's a Blast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well if you’re so worried,” he said, his gaze returning to you. “Then maybe Sheila here can help out.”
> 
> “Huh?” you nearly squeaked at his suggestion, confused by what he meant. He jabbed a finger towards your backpack, and it began to click.
> 
> “The gloves, mate,” he said, a glint in his eye. “Let’s see what’cha got.”

    You jumped out of bed the second you heard the sirens, falling to the floor where you crawled for your backpack. It was only after you already had one glove on that you realized the sirens weren’t quite _right_.

 

    They sounded more like clock alarms.

 

    “We wake up by a certain hour?” you murmured, standing on shaky legs. Your heart was beating hard as the sirens finally faded, leaving a ringing in your ears. You unhooked your glove from around your arm, letting it drop back down with a thud.

 

    You sighed, rubbing one eye as you looked around your decent-sized room. You had been too exhausted upon reaching your room you hadn’t taken the time to give it a look-around.

 

    Overall it was pretty humble, with a twin-sized bed tucked away in the corner and a regular-sized dresser in another. You had a small closet and there was a rug on the otherwise metal flooring. A small window was placed high up on the first wall you could see, the morning sunlight streaming through.

 

    It was quaint. And it was yours.

 

    “Tour’s today,” you murmured as you stretched, opening the suitcase you brought to start unpacking all your clothes. You wondered if it would be Winston giving you a tour or perhaps the McCree character you had met. You supposed the Tracer girl would be fun to tour with too, since she seemed to friendly.

 

    As you hung your last shirt in your closet and folded the last of your underwear in the dresser you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, looking at your clothing options. You decided to go simple--it’s not like you were given a uniform--and with all of that said and done you tucked away the glove on the floor into your backpack and slung it over your shoulders.

 

    “Let’s get this show on the road,” you said as you opened the door, only to bump into another body standing outside. Lena stumbled back from the impact, her eyes wide and hand raised to knock. You, too, stumbled back and quickly muttered an apology, face going red.

 

    “No problem, love,” she said, her hands going to her waist. She was peppy in the morning, you had to give her that. “Winston told me to give you a good ol’ look at the place.”

 

    “Yeah, the tour,” you said with a nod, smiling when Lena did. She gave you a thumbs up, hopping a little in place as she backed up.

 

    “Well, let’s get going then!” she said with a wide grin. It was hard not to cheer up in her presence, though in a second her presence was _gone_. You blinked, looking around the hallway in a panic before seeing her on the other side waving.

 

    “Come on, now! There’s a lot to show you!” she yelled, making you laugh. You grabbed your backpack straps and began to jog down the hallway after her.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

    Lena showed you a multitude of rooms, not all being too important. You saw the staff room, bathrooms, storage unit, offices and, of course, Lena’s room.

 

    “You can visit me anytime!” she had said, knocking lightly on her own door. “I’m a light sleeper!”

 

    Her friendliness was well-appreciated after your time managing riots full of hateful people. Having had no friends left back ‘home’, the hospitable nature of Overwatch reminding you what it felt like to have people care. About _everything_.

 

    “And  here’s the cafeteria!” Lena announced, swinging the wide double-doors open. You stepped inside, looking around at the other Overwatch members eating breakfast. Your mouth watered at the sight of waffles, and right on time your stomach growled. Lena laughed, patting you on the shoulder

 

    “Go get some,” she said, jabbing a thumb towards the counters. “They’re great. Lucio is on cooking duty today and he’s one of our better cooks.”

 

    “Wait wait, _Lucio_ ?” you stammered out, staring at her like she was crazy. “You mean _the_ Lucio? _This_ is where he disappeared off to?”

 

    “That’s right!” she said, laughing at your expression. “Come on, let’s go say hi.”

 

    She led you over to the food-stocked counters, leaning over to look around the kitchen. When she didn’t immediately see Lucio she cupped her hands around her mouth and started to shout.

 

    “Hey, Luce! Our new teammate wants to meet you!” you felt your cheeks go red as a few other Overwatch members began to turn in their seats. You wished Lena wouldn’t announce your presence like that, but before you could ask her to stop a familiar face popped into view.

 

    “Hey!” your jaw dropped as Lucio waved at you with a grin. He was shorter than you thought he’d be, but it was still unmistakably the worldwide celebrity and musician wearing an apron behind the counters. The apron had a frog face on it.  “So you’re the newbie huh? Nice to meet you,” he grinned and you swore your face couldn’t get redder. He held out his hand and after a moment of hesitation you accepted it.

 

    “Oh I see how it is. You’ll shake _his_ hand but not mine?” Lena teased, elbowing you. You laughed at that, holding your hand out to her next. She looked surprised by the gesture but soon gripped your hand in hers, giving it a surprisingly firm shake.

 

    “Sorry I didn’t do that yesterday,” you apologized. She brushed it off with a laugh though, nodding to the counters.

 

    “Go ahead and dish up. I still have to show you the training grounds.”

   

    You nodded, turning back to Lucio who passed you a tray. “Waffles with your choice of fruit and either bacon or sausage,” he said, motioning to the options on the counter. “Usually we have a larger selection but our shipments have been coming in late for some reason…”

 

    “No, this is perfect,” you said as you began to dish yourself a couple of waffles. “Can’t believe I’m eating a celebrity’s cooking.”

 

    “Well, like one of our _allies_ says all the time-- _we’re all soldiers now_ ,” he gave a small salute, and it must have been an inside joke because Lena burst out laughing to the point she had tears in her eyes.

 

    “You sounded just like him!” she said, wiping said tears from one eye.

 

    “Wait, aren’t you going to eat Lena?” you asked as she began to lead you away to the tables. She shook her head, looking back to you.

 

    “Already ate, love. I’m always first in when Lucio cooks.”

 

    You were about to ask how she managed to do that by the time you were done unpacking, but then you remembered the blue streaks she left behind her when she disappeared and had a pretty good idea of how.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

    Lunch passed with a table of strangers that wanted to shake hands and were full of questions about your tech. You answered as politely as you could, though the time spent talking to everyone made your waffles soggy in the end. You ate them anyway and once you were done Lena jumped up from the table with your tray in hand, zooming over to the trashcans on the other side of the cafeteria.

 

    “Let’s keep going, _____!” you heard her shout. You smiled, saying your goodbyes as you left the table to follow your tour guide.

 

    “You’ve seen pretty much everything,” she said as you walked outside, leading you along the road. “Now we just gotta show you the training area and you’ll be good to go!”

 

    “Oh good, my feet were getting sore,” you said with a small laugh. “...everyone here seems pretty nice. All things considered.”

 

    “Well, we all have the same goals, y’know?” Lena said, turning a corner. “Now the training grounds are just up he-”

 

    There was an explosion and you flinched, face going white as you thought back to all the molotovs you couldn’t stop. It took Lena gently patting your shoulder for you to snap out of it, a worried look on her face.

 

    “Hey, you ok?” she asked, standing in front of you. You gave a lame nod, making her huff as she turned her attention to the training grounds ahead. “That’s no doubt Junkrat up there, probably training with his friend Roadhog. We can come back later--”

 

    “No!” you blurted, covering your mouth afterward. Lena looked surprised as your hand dropped, your expression sheepish. “....no. It’s fine. I want to see.”

 

    “....if you say so,” she sighed before she started walking again, the area opening up into a field just outside the main HQ. Just as Lena had predicted there stood a laughing Junkrat next to an _enormous_ man in both height and weight. You blinked, taking in the new man’s appearance almost warily--though it was hard to be _too_ wary when he had a cartoon pig’s face tattooed around his belly button.

 

    You came to a stop right on the outskirts of the training grounds, and it was ‘Roadhog’ that saw you and Lena first. He silently nodded in your direction, making Junkrat turn as well.

 

    When he saw you, his eyes lit up.

 

    “Well well!” he chimed, hobbling your way. You tensed slightly as he came to a stop about a foot away. Lena had, at some pointed, wedged herself between the two of you more or less. “If it ain’t the new Sheila! Hey Roadie, come meet our _new teammate_.”

 

    Roadhog made his way over, silently nodding at you a second time. He was even more intimidating up close--he had to be around seven feet, which up until then you hadn’t thought that was possible.

 

    “Nice to, uh, meet you….Roadhog?” you said, awkwardly extending your hand. You almost regretted it when the thought of him snapping your arm off came to mind, but when he took your hand he was surprisingly gentle and gave it a soft shake.

 

    “What are you doing out here, Junkrat?” Lena cut in, hands on hips. She was eyeing him suspiciously, which made him raise his hands up in self-defense. Despite his body language he was still grinning at her, as though what she said didn’t really matter.

 

    “Jus’ testin’ some new bombs is all, really!” he said with a feigned innocence. Lena sighed, shaking her head.

 

    “Be _careful_ with those….you could hit HQ and put a hole in our walls,” she chided. Junkrat seemed to find the possibility hilarious however, as he burst into a fit of laughter.

 

    “Well if you’re so worried,” he said, his gaze returning to you. “Then maybe Sheila here can help out.”

 

    “Huh?” you nearly squeaked at his suggestion, confused by what he meant. He jabbed a finger towards your backpack, and it began to click.

 

    “The _gloves_ , mate,” he said, a glint in his eye. “Let’s see what’cha _got_.”

 

    You looked to Lena who immediately bristled, glaring at Junkrat. “No way. She just got here, she doesn’t--”

 

    “Actually it’s ok,” you whispered, biting your lip when everyone turned to face you again. You felt on the spot, but you kept talking anyway. “I’m going to be working with him anyway, right? Might as well test out my gloves versus his bombs…”

 

    “You sure, love?” you heard Lena ask with a frown. You nodded, and Junkrat burst into laughter, jumping in place.

 

    “That’s the ticket!” he giggled, hobbling backwards to make some space between you. Roadhog continued to stare at you for a moment before grunting, making his way to the sidelines. Lena watched him go before turning to you, a worried look in her eyes.

 

    “...I’ll be here if you need me, love,” she whispered before disappearing in a streak of blue. You sighed, taking your backpack off to pull your gloves out.

 

    They had multiple belts and buttons to help hold it in place, taking up the majority of your arm on either side. You flexed your fingers before clicking the buttons on the back of your hands.

 

    The gloves lit up then, blue sparks flying from the tips for a few seconds. You glanced back up to Junkrat on the other side of the field, noting the grenade launcher in his hands. He must have left it over there when he first saw you, because he didn’t have it on his person while you talked.

 

    “Ready Sheila!” he asked.

 

    “My name is--” you began only to flinch as he aimed his grenade launcher upwards, lobbing a bomb into the air towards your general direction. You swore at his sudden action, whipping your hands out just in time to catch the bomb with your shields. It exploded mid-air, debris falling between the two of you.

   

You glared.

 

    “I wasn’t _ready,_ Junkrat!” you shouted, clenching your fists. He ignored you, choosing to laugh.

 

    “Gotta be ready all the time, Sheila!” he shouted, giving you no time for a rebuttal as he launched not one but _three_ more grenades.

 

    You heard Lena shout from the sidelines as you took a step back, expression hardening. You opted to simply block the incoming bombs the second time around instead of catching them, casting a shield overhead.

 

    The first bomb hit with no problem, but the second bomb hit hard enough the shield broke apart overhead, disappearing into sparks of blue as the third fell through the dust straight at you.

 

    “ _Shit_ ,” you hissed, casting another shield just in the nick of time. It exploded only two feet away from you, making you shiver. Before you knew what was going on you felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to see Lena there, a mix of worry and rage in her eyes.

 

    “You ok?” she asked. You nodded, and once she determined you were, in fact, not injured she turned her attention back to Junkrat.

 

    “You could have _killed_ her!” she screamed at him, pointing a finger. “What do you think you’re _doing_!”

 

    “How was I supposed to know her shields would be so flimsy?” Junkrat shouted back, making your cheeks burn.

 

    “He’s right,” you said with a sigh, running a gloved hand through your hair. “It wasn’t designed to handle those sorts of explosions…”

 

    “But _still_ …” Lena said, exasperated.

 

    “It’s fine. I’ll tweak them,and then we can do more stress tests. They have to hold up to his bombs if I’m going to work with him…” you looked back to Junkrat, offering a small wave. “Thanks Jamison. We’ll have to do this again after I tweak my shields.”

 

    Junkrat stood there a moment, almost as if he didn’t know how to react to your words. He shifted his weight to his prosthetic, crossing his arms as he tilted his head sideways.

 

    His contemplative expression didn’t last long before his mouth spread into a wide, toothy grin, a giggle escaping shortly thereafter.

 

    “Sounds like a challenge,” he said, resting his grenade launcher on his shoulder. “I _like_ a good challenge.”

 

    You couldn’t help but laugh at that, making Lena stare at you in disbelief.

 

    “Me too,” you said, pressing the buttons on your gloves so they powered down. You looked to Lena, grinning. “...guess this tour’s been a real blast, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually feeling like this story wasn't all that great but then you all went and gave me nice comments and tons of kudos so here we are. Idk what I'm doing. Someone help.


	3. For Little Ol' Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just a second!” you called out, reaching over to turn your gloves off. Before you could, there was a bright light immediately followed by a large blast that sent you flying backwards. You landed in the bed at first, only to bounce off to the floor with a crash. You blinked before coughing, your door sliding open a second later.
> 
> “______!” you heard Lena shout, zooming to your side. You accepted her outstretched hand, slowly getting back on your feet. Lena inspected you first for injury before looking around your now-wrecked room with a frown.
> 
> “What happened?” she asked, voice full of concern.

You spent the the majority of the next day tweaking your gloves, your bedroom floor littered with an assortment of small tools and various components. You didn't leave for breakfast or even lunch as you tinkered away, beads of sweat rolling down your temple as you worked.

 

“One...more...piece…” you muttered, eyes narrowed in concentration. You were wearing goggles, a safety precaution in case something went wrong.

 

When you finally finished your work you sat up straight with a smile, reaching up to wipe the sweat off your brow. “Alright, test run time. Show me what you got…”

   

You slipped one glove on, flexing your fingers a few times before pressing the switch. The blue lights flickered on, accompanied by a soft hum. With everything looking good so far you decided to prepare a small shield, throwing it towards your closet.

 

At first everything was fine, the blue shield hovering a few inches off the ground. You smiled but jumped when you heard a knock on your door.

 

“Just a second!” you called out, reaching over to turn your gloves off. Before you could, there was a bright light immediately followed by a large blast that sent you flying backwards. You landed in the bed at first, only to bounce off to the floor with a crash. You blinked before coughing, your door sliding open a second later.

 

“______!” you heard Lena shout, zooming to your side. You accepted her outstretched hand, slowly getting back on your feet. Lena inspected you first for injury before looking around your now-wrecked room with a frown.

 

“What happened?” she asked, voice full of concern.

 

“My shields exploded,” you said with a sigh, dusting yourself off. “I must have overloaded them…” you were already coming up with ways to fix the problem, muttering under your breath as Lena watched, hands on her hips.

 

“You could always ask Winston. He had a similar problem once…”

 

Before you could reply you heard a familiar sound of someone hobbling down the hallway outside, Junkrat peeking around your door.

 

“I heard a mighty fine explosion!” he exclaimed, giggling as he looked around the room. “I’d call this an improvement!”

 

“Of course you'd think that,” Lena said with a sigh.

 

“Hello Jamison,” you greeted, lifting your goggles. Your face was mostly covered in black, minus where the goggles protected your eyes.

 

“Arvo, mate!” he greeted grinning. You smiled back, if not a bit awkwardly before picking up your other glove. You looked it over with a heavy sigh.

 

“If you're here to do more test runs, it'll be a while,” you informed him, slipping the other glove off. Your arm hurt as you removed the glove, and upon closer inspection you could see some minor burns. Lena took a sharp breath at the sight, gently placing a finger on your skin.

 

“You should get this checked out, love,” she said, looking back to you. “Mercy should be in the infirmary.”

 

“Bah, I've seen worse,” Junkrat said, almost bored by the sight. Lena shot him a look, eyes narrowed.

 

“Don't you have things to explode?” she snapped at him, making Junkrat’s grin grow.

 

“I do, in fact,” he chimed, finally stepping into full view. His prosthetic arm held his trademark grenade launcher, and for the first time you noticed the smiley faces on the bombs inside.

 

“That's cute,” you said without thinking, making both Lena and Junkrat look at you in confusion. You pointed a finger to his bombs. “Those. The faces on them.”

 

Junkrat lifted his launcher up towards his face, inspecting his work before peering over the bombs with narrowed eyes.

 

“They ain't _cute_.”

 

“I think they are,” you said. You heard Lena break out laughing as Junkrat’s expression changed into a pout. Realizing you probably offended your teammate your cheeks turned red, hidden under the soot from the explosion.

 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you,” you raised your hands in front of you. “I just saw them and...well...um…” you fidgeted uncomfortably. “...do you paint them yourself?”

 

Junkrat let his launcher fall to his side, his offended look transforming into pride. “Sure do, sheila,” he said with a giggle, pleased you had noticed his handiwork. You couldn't help but laugh a little yourself, reaching up to wipe some soot from your face. Lena inspected the both of you with a thoughtful expression.

 

“You two might just get along,” she said with a small laugh. Your cheeks burned and you shrugged, picking up your gloves.

 

“A-anyway, I'd like to talk to Winston about my shield problem,” you stuffed the gloves into your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder. Junkrat shot you a disapproving look, clicking his tongue.

 

“It ain't a problem if ya know how t’use it,” he said as you began to walk out if the room. “Think of the mayhem we could cause together, sheila!”

 

“I'd rather not,” you replied, turning to see a blue flash and Lena blocking your way.

 

“Love, you've been working on this all day. Have you even eaten?” you stopped, frowning at her as you tried to go around.

 

“I'll eat when I have this figured out,” you said, only for Lena to flash in front of you again.

 

“No, you'll eat now,” she said with her arms crossed. “There's leftovers from lunch, and I'm not letting you through until you've eaten!”

 

“Leftovers, you say?” Junkrat reappeared at your side, his eyes lighting up.

 

“Not for you Junkrat. _Or_ Roadhog,” she glared and Junkrat glared right back.

 

“You gonna stop me?”

 

“I will if I have to--______, get back here!”

 

You had run off during their argument, skidding around the corner only to run into Roadhog. You fell backwards, Roadhog’s hand moving to catch you by the arm.

 

Precariously balanced on your heels with only Roadhog holding you up, you swallowed and felt your face go red in embarrassment. He gently pulled you back up, letting go when he was sure you were standing.

 

“...th...thank you,” you stammered out, footsteps sounding behind you. Roadhog nodded before looking behind you, and you didn't have to follow his gaze to know Lena and Junkrat were there.

 

“Roadie, just in time!” you heard Junkrat yell, the sound of his peg leg rough on the metal flooring. “We're about to eat lunch again!”

 

“No you aren't!” Lena scolded, and looking between everyone around you, you couldn't help but smile. You sighed, shaking your head as your grip on your bag lessened

 

“...we might as well all go together,” you said with a shrug. “No one else is gonna eat the leftovers, right?”

 

Roadhog grunted behind you and Junkrat almost lost it laughing at Lena, who looked just a little betrayed. You flashed an apologetic smile.

 

“Sheila’s right!” Junkrat said making his way to you and Roadhog. Without warning he slung his good arm around your shoulders. You blinked as he pulled you close, side-eyeing his launcher as he patted your shoulder. “I'm startin’ to like you, mate.”

 

You coughed awkwardly, the smell of burnt fabric strong in your nostrils from being so close to him. Lena sighed from where she stood, blowing a stray hair from her face.

 

“Fine,” she said, waving a hand around. “Let's get going then.”

 

You couldn't help but laugh with Junkrat as you all started for the cafeteria.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The cafeteria was empty when you all entered, Lena going to the back to pull out the leftovers from the fridge. It was peach cobbler, by the looks of it as she momentarily took the cook’s  position to dish everyone something to eat. You gratefully accepted it and winced when Junkrat spoke up.

 

“Oi! Yer givin’ her _double_ what me and Roadie got!” you heard him shout, tray clinking against the counter. Lena scoffed, rolling her eyes.

 

“You've already eaten today. ______ has not. Also, she has a name so why don't you start using it?” Lena retorted, giving Roadhog his dish. “Now eat up and shut up.”

 

Junkrat stuck his tongue out childishly before turning, eyeing your tray as you made your way to a nearby table. He plopped down beside you, to your surprise, though Lena was at your other side almost instantly.

 

Roadhog sat on the other side of the table and you swore that the whole thing lifted just a bit.

 

You went to eat your cobbler when your fork hit another, making you look up at Junkrat as he tried to steal a piece.

 

“ _Excuse you_ ,” you said, smacking his fork away with yours. “Eat your own!”

 

“Yer’s looks fresher. Come on sheila, just a bite--” you smacked his fork again, a metallic “tink” sounding. “Oi, you didn't even want to eat before!”

 

“I changed my mind,” you muttered, stuffing a piece of cobbler in your mouth. “You can't have it.”

 

Lena snickered beside you, her cobbler already gone from her plate. Fast eater, you supposed. Junkrat’s eyes had narrowed at you, his smile momentarily gone as he sulked, stabbing at his own cobbler. The sight was so pathetic that after another bite you rolled your eyes and switched plates with him.

 

“Happy?” you asked, taking a bite of his abused food. The maniacal laughter you heard a moment later was your answer, and soon Junkrat was spooning up mouthfuls of cobbler.

 

Roadhog grunted and you shrugged. “Sorry, Junkrat wanted it first.”

 

“You can understand him?” Lena whispered in shock and you looked to her with a brow raised.

 

“Well it's fairly obvious, isn't it?” you replied. You immediately heard a loud laugh and a hand slam into your back, nearly knocking your face into your dish.

 

“The sheila understands ya, Roadie! Wouldja’ look at that!” Junkrat grinned and, when you looked over, Roadhog had nodded as well. Your cheeks reddened as you looked away, just in time to see Winston enter the cafeteria.

 

“Winston!” you shouted, abandoning your food to rush over to the gorilla. He turned, adjusting his glasses before smiling.

 

“Ah, miss Elliott. It's nice to see you,” he said with a kind smile. You smiled back, readjusting your backpack straps. “I just came in to have some cobbler…”

 

“Sorry Winston, it's all gone!” you heard Lena yell from where she sat. Winston looked disappointed , but only for a moment.

 

“Well then...that's what I get for staying in the lab all day,” he sighed, turning his attention back to you. “Did you need something from me?”

 

“Yes, actually,” you sheepishly replied, nodding. “You see, yesterday I tested my shields against Jamison’s bombs and they didn't hold up well. But when  I tweaked them the shields suddenly became explosive…” you frowned. “Lena said you might be able to help…?”

 

Winston laughed and nodded, eyes gleaming. “Yes of course I can help. I've had similar problems. Fickle things shields tend to be.”

 

You let out a breath of relief, grinning at your superior. “Thank you so much!” you beamed. “I was thinking an exterior battery, like a pack of some sort, might stop the overload. I'm not sure if the gloves need to be reconfigured too though, to accept a larger amount of energy…”

 

“Let me grab a jar of peanut butter and we can head over to my lab." You heard a boo come from Jamison behind you, making you turn

 

“Leave ‘em as-is! Let’em explode!” he yelled, making you sigh.

 

“...maybe we can have an explode setting?” you muttered. “I guess it could be useful. Kinda.”

 

“We'll ah...we'll look into it. Now, give me a moment…” he turned towards the kitchen, walking off while you stood there, absolutely beaming.

 

You had never worked with another scientist before.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As it turned out, Winston was an absolute genius. It didn't matter that he was a gorilla--his intellect far surpassed most humans, you included. Within the first few minutes of troubleshooting you felt like you had learned a novel’s worth of technique, and while you were awed you felt some insecurity bubbling up in the back of your mind.

 

With such a great scientist, what point was there for you to be there?

   

“It's definitely experiencing overload,” Winston confirmed, turning your gloves over on his work station. “There's too much power and so the shields created become unstable. I've had this exact same problem many times with my own barriers.”

 

“You use barriers as well, huh?” you asked, eyes flicking to his face. “Why not use those to manage Junkrat?”

 

“They're domes meant to protect squads,” he replied, picking up a tiny screwdriver. “I might also use barriers, but their application is entirely different.”

 

“You could have made new ones though.”

 

He laughed, looking back up to you with a knowing smile. “You still doubt why you're here?”

   

“Well, yeah…” you muttered, taking the screwdriver from him when he lifted it up. “My shields broke on day one again Jamison. That's not very impressive.”

 

“Ah, but it is,” he lifted your glove, giving it a closer inspection. “Because you immediately worked to improve yourself. Lena was quite worried about you today.”

 

With red cheeks you gave him a sheepish smile, biting your lip. “Yeah, sorry about that…”

 

“Just remember to make time for yourself,” he said with a nod. He then looked to you, adjusting his glasses. “I believe your ‘pack’ idea is the right way to go. Go ahead and write up some prototypes then bring them to me when you're done. Alright?”

 

You nodded, accepting your gloves as he handed them to you. You gently put them in your backpack before holding your hand out to Winston.

 

“Thank you for the help,” you said, smiling. He smiled back, gently shaking your hand.

 

“Anytime, miss Elliott,” he turned back to his desk but rose a finger suddenly, turning back around. “Oh, and the padding I added should help distribute the heat properly, even in its current state. So you don’t have to worry about more burns...but you should get those checked out by Mercy when possible.”

 

“Ah, thanks again,” you laughed, one hand going to the burns on your arm. “I’ll make sure to talk to her later.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

You exited Winston’s office not too long after that, a spring in your step as you made your way outside. You breathed in the fresh air, the sun just starting to dip over the horizon. It was peaceful, really, until you heard the distant sound of a bomb going off.

 

At first you ignored it, choosing to head for your room or maybe Mercy’s infirmary only to stop when something came to mind. You smiled, turning around to head for the training grounds.

 

Once there you weren't surprised to see Junkrat and Roadhog standing out in the field, Junkrat cackling on the ground where his own explosion had thrown him. Roadhog was still standing, though soot covered the majority of his stomach.

 

You coughed.

 

“Hey Jamison,” you greeted with a wave. “And hello...Roadhog? I don't know your real name…”

 

“Mako,” you weren't surprised to find Roadhog--- _Mako’s_  voice to be deep and gruff. It suited him.

 

“Sheila!” Junkrat exclaimed from where he laid on the ground. “What brings ya out here?” he jumped to his feet, balancing on his peg leg a moment before hobbling over, grinning. You were sure he was dirtier than before, his face almost entirely black.

 

“Ah, well, about that…” you let your backpack drop to the ground, kneeling beside it as you pulled out your gloves. You strapped them on, pushing their buttons until they glowed a gentle blue. “I thought you’d want to see these work before I fix them.”

 

“They don’t _need_ fixin’,” Junkrat sulked, though he had tilted his head curiously towards your gloves. He reached out to touch them only to get his hand smacked away, you giving him a glare.

 

“No touching,” you said, making him frown again. “Just...watch, ok?”

 

“Whatever ya say, sheila.”

 

You sighed, flexing your fingers until they started to spark. You put your hand in front of you, a blue, translucent sphere forming in your hands before it launched out a safe distance away. The shield unfolded into a small wall, hovering just above the ground for a few seconds before it began to flicker and spark.

 

The next second resulted in an explosion strong enough to blow everyone’s hair back, a small crater left in its wake. Junkrat let out a howl of laughter at that, slapping his knee as if the explosion were the best he had seen.

 

“Quality there, mate! I still dunno why you wanna go an’ change it,” he looked disappointed and you almost felt bad about it.

 

“...you know what, here…” you reached up to unbuckle your gloves, sliding them off before handing it over to Junkrat. He looked astonished, glancing to Roadhog as though he had the answer to a question he hadn’t asked.

 

“Yer uh...yer just gonna let me take’em?” Junkrat asked, reaching out to grab the gloves. You smiled and shrugged.

 

“Not _keep_ them...they’ll be useful when drawing up a prototype but...why don’t you give them a try?”

 

“I ain’t complainin’!” he let out another laugh, roughly starting to pull the gloves on over his fingers. It didn’t take long to realize they wouldn’t fit over his bulkier prosthetic, however, so you quietly took one back as he started to try fastening the buckles.

 

When he had trouble doing so you reached over and began to click everything in place, ignoring the giggle Junkrat made as you did. When done you stepped back but kept hold of his hand, pointing a finger to the buttons on the top.

 

“These are the power switches. When you turn it on it kinda feels like it’s vibrating in your palm--from there just hold your hand outwards like I did to where you want your shields. A completely open palm signals the gloves to make a barrier. Anything other than that will not result in a barrier...ok?”

 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Junkrat said, almost waving you off as he turned towards the crater you had made. “Let’s get to the explodey parts!”

 

You snorted at the word ‘explodey’, but nodded before taking a small step back. “Alright, go ahead then.”

 

He held his hand up as straight as possible, surprisingly a look of concentration on his face. It was almost comical to see in comparison to his usual behavior. It only took a couple of seconds before the barrier began to form, shooting out from his palm near your crater.

 

Everyone watched the barrier unfold and float there, blue and flickering. When it finally folded back in on itself and exploded, Junkrat let out a holler and raised his fists above his head, grinning.

 

“Wouldja’ look at that beaut’ of an explosion, Roadie!” he cheered, turning to elbow his companion’s ribs. Roadhog lifted a hand to give you a thumbs up and you blushed, flattered by how these two Junkers found your mistake to be _perfect_.

 

“...I change my mind, go ahead and keep that glove,” you said, stuffing your other in your bag. “I only need one anyway.”

 

“Really sheila? You’d do that for little’ ol’ me?” Junkrat asked with an exaggerated batting of lashes. You broke out into laughter again--something you found yourself doing more and more in his presence before nodding.

 

“Yeah, sure. Have a _blast_ ,” you raised a hand to wave goodbye, turning to head for your room. “Just...don’t have too much fun...and don’t let Lena know if you can help it.”

 

“Aye aye, mate!” Junkrat called out after you, making you smile. You waved one last time before disappearing down the path back to your room.

 

You never did see Mercy that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M STILL NOT CONFIDENT IN THIS PIECE BUT I TRIED A LITTLE HARDER HERE. I'm on jury duty atm so a lot of this was written on our breaks lmao. 
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos everyone! They mean a lot ;u;


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